


Mari's Fire Emblem Trans Week Collection

by Zalakbian



Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Abandonment, Adoption, Agender!Byleth, Agender!Linhardt, Birthday, Chest Binding, Coming Out, Egg Hatching, Families of Choice, First Kiss, Found Family, Multi, Nonbinary Character, Nonbinary!Dorothea, Nonbinary!Ingrid, Old Age, Old Married Couple, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Questioning Gender Identity, Questioning!Edelgard, Trans Female Character, Trans Male Character, Trans!Bernadetta, Trans!Ferdinand, trans!caspar, trans!felix, trans!marianne
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-16
Updated: 2020-07-22
Packaged: 2021-03-04 18:35:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 7,450
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25291012
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zalakbian/pseuds/Zalakbian
Summary: My submission of fics for #fetransweek 2020
Relationships: Caspar von Bergliez/Linhardt von Hevring, Dorothea Arnault & Bernadetta von Varley, Dorothea Arnault & Manuela Casagranda, Edelgard von Hresvelg/My Unit | Byleth, Felix Hugo Fraldarius & Ingrid Brandl Galatea, Ferdinand von Aegir/Hubert von Vestra, Marianne von Edmund/Hilda Valentine Goneril, Petra Macneary/Bernadetta von Varley
Comments: 50
Kudos: 98
Collections: Fire Emblem Trans Week 2020!





	1. Day 1: Acceptance + Realization, Ferdinand & Hubert

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for Fire Emblem Trans Week, @fetransweek
> 
> Please check out the other amazing works here and on social media!
> 
> If you like this, please consider joining to talk about it on the [Edeleth Discord Server](https://discord.gg/m2AVbJ3) I run! You can also [follow me on Twitter!](https://twitter.com/MariMari07_01)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hubert comes across his love in a very private moment, sparking a long delayed conversation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This particular work was inspired by this piece of artwork: https://twitter.com/JosieCutsPaper/status/1283372607878963200

Brush, brush, brush. Working through her increasingly long orange locks was certainly becoming more of a chore for Freya, but the rewards of beautiful, vibrant hair would always be worth it. She had an uncommon moment during the war to be alone in her room, and so was indulging in all the elegant dress, cosmetics and speech she wasn’t ready to bring outside yet. Freya would love nothing more than to break out of the shell she was unfortunately settled into now, but with the constant warfare, and chaos, it just never felt like the right time. The only others who knew were Dorothea and Bernadetta, a supportive soul and a kindred spirit, the rare opportunities she had to spend time as herself around them were always treasured. She was even wearing the fruits of those friendships, a prized, orange, hand-me-down orange dress from Dorothea, modified to fit by Bernadetta’s expert stitching. It was her favourite possession, even though it wasn’t particularly fancy or ‘noble’ looking, it just felt right.

As she finished the final few strokes and prepared to tie up the fruits of her labour Freya once again thought about coming out to one more person, to Hubert. Her colleague, no,she figured it had to be ‘boyfriend’ now, given the peculiarities of last month had stolen nearly all of her heart, aside from the one piece she was keeping locked away. They had bickered and fought, and now kissed and cuddled, a startling but wholly welcome development. She had tried to work up the courage and guts many times to say something during their many tea and coffee times together, but always Freya’s throat would choke up and the topic would be changed to something different, like education reform, or logistical trains. Staying silent was also taking a toll on Freya’s nerve. She felt as though she were deceiving her love, and the longer Freya waited, the worse she expected the eventual reveal to be.

Lost in thought, Freya’s hands fumbled and her ivory brush clattered to the floor, leaving her scrambling to pick it back up. “Gah! Silly Freya… come back!” She complained, and griped even harder once bending over caused all of her hair to fall forward in front of her face. “Argh! Out. Of. The. Way!” Freya accidentally bumped the back of her head on the underside of the chair, causing it to tip over and crash to the floor. Eventually She retrieved her brush, but by the time Freya was back on her feet, pulling the hair out from her eyes, she noticed that someone was knocking on the door. “Ah, please do not enter!” She cried, but the door was already on its way open.

“Ferdinand are you al-” Hubert entered and asked, though he stopped dead in his tracks as soon as the two caught sight of each other.

“I…” Freya quickly turned away in shame and shock, this was definitely not how she wanted things to go. “I am sorry! Please forget this!”

She braced herself against the windowsill, trying to shut off her senses until Hubert left the room. But Hubert didn’t walk out. Instead Freya could hear him stepping closer and closer, and then a family gloved hand gripped her shoulder and turned her around. Freya expected a tongue lashing, an interrogation, or accusation, but rather than all that, she was surprised by a sudden, warm, and loving hug.

“I don’t understand…?” Freya began to sob, but Hubert kept the embrace, and helped his love weep into a shoulder.

“My love… you’re radiant.” He finally spoke up, and Freya completely lost it.

A few minutes later they were both sitting side by side on the bed holding hands, with Freya having collected enough of herself to try and finally have this conversation.

“I was very worried about you.” Hubert admitted. He took off his gloves so the two could hold hands naturally, and he could feel how much Freya’s were still shaking. “I could tell something was troubling you so badly, but… I’m not well versed in dealing with matters of the heart, I was lost in what to do.”

Freya continued to sniffle, calmed somewhat by Hubert rolling his thumb across her knuckles. “I wanted to tell you for so long.” She spoke up, needing to stop to cough, and wipe away a tear. “But I couldn’t find the words, and I was so scared that I’d be rejected.”

“I love you… even more now that I am finally seeing the true you, F…” Hubert quickly bit his tongue to stop the rest from slipping out.

“...Freya.” She finished.

Hubert reached over and tenderly kissed her lips, both smiling and blushing just as they always had. “Very well, Freya. What would you like to do for the remainder of the day?” Hubert bequeathed.

“...Could you help introduce me to some others, Hubert?”


	2. Day 2: Support + Class Change, Ingrid & Felix

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Felix catches Ingrid doing something reckless and dangerous, so its up to him to show the proper way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to my good buddy Eli/NameForsaken for helping me out with the peculiarities of this fic.

It was with a heavy heart that Ingrid slowly trudged into their room, and fell backwards onto the bed with a heavy wallop. Behind them lay discarded pieces of armour like a trail of breadcrumbs, the final wristguard torn off and at Ingrid’s feet. Breaths were slow and heavy as they tried to make sense of the disaster that had just ensued in the training grounds. Everything seemed to be going fine, they were sparring with Felix to learn swordplay for their new vocation as a Swordmaster. Meanwhile, Sylvain and Dimitri were busy with their lanceplay, which they definitely shouldn’t have been paying as much attention to.

“Stop losing focus!” Felix had shouted at them, and jabbing Ingrid had in the breastplate with the pommel of his sword. They’d lost balance and fallen to the ground, but rather than get up, everything suddenly started to feel all hot and dizzy. The last thing Ingrid remembered before blacking out was the clatter of metal to the ground, probably a sword. When they woke up, not much time seemed to have passed, but everyone was crowded around, and Sylvain was wiping down their face with a cool cloth.

Ingrid had decided to retreat to their quarters after that, and left a bewildered Felix, Sylvain and Dimitri in their wake. They didn’t give any thought to trying to explain things, as Ingrid could barely understand and come to terms with it themselves. They had spent countless episodes standing across a mirror fussing with appearance, armour, and reiterating, “I am Sir Ingrid Brandl Galatea”, over and over again until it felt just as natural to say as it felt natural in their heart. Ingrid now kept a hand over their heavy chest, and started to realize what had likely caused their episode in the yard.

A knock came from the door. “I’m coming in, Ingrid, cover yourself if you have to.” Felix blurted out in his typical coarse tone. Ingrid just sighed and let their friend come inside, choosing not to get up from the bed. Felix had discarded his overcoat but kept the turtleneck underneath, and he was carrying a small folded garment which he laid at the edge of Ingrid’s bed. Wasting no time before getting to business, Felix pulled out Ingrid’s desk chair and beckoned them to it. “Sit down facing the back of the chair, and take your shirt off.” He instructed.

Ingrid was aghast. “Excuse me?” They loudly questioned, but Felix simply reiterated his point.

“Do it, before I make you.”

Knowing that they were too tired and bruised to argue this off, Ingrid acquiesced, and sat down facing away from Felix in their chair. But they hesitated slightly in pulling their shirt off, leading to Felix roughly grabbing the hem and pulling it over Ingrid’s head.

“H-Hey!” Ingrid protested, but what Felix saw wound around and around his childhood friend’s torso confirmed exactly what he had been fearing.

“This.” Felix tugged on a strip of bandage for emphasis. “Never do this again.” He asserted, and Felix took a dagger from his belt and cut the whole ensemble off with one stroke. Ingrid immediately felt a great relief, but also despair. It had been so nice to see themselves with that new look, and it fit the news ways they were trying to think of themselves as. Felix wasn’t suggesting that Ingrid should never do that again, right? After all, they knew he did something to achieve a similar effect.

Ingrid tried to explain. “Felix I-” but the trueblade cut them off.

“Doing it that way will kill you.” He stated matter of factly. Felix then retrieved the garment he had brought in with him, and handed it over to Ingrid. “Try this instead.”

Ingrid scanned the cream coloured cloth trying to figure out what it was. It looked somewhat like a crop top, only much shorter. Still, it tugged on nicely, and even though their chest was still sore and bruised from the earlier experiment, Ingrid found that this new item did just as good a job, while feeling much more comfortable to wiggle around in.

“Satisfied?” Felix asked after watching Ingrid examine themselves, and twist their upper body left and right for a few minutes. He smiled as Ingrid gave him the thumbs up, but only seemingly for a moment. “I uh… that’s an old one of mine, from when I was younger and shorter. I figured it would fit you well.” Felix elaborated as bashfully as he could.

“Thank you so much, Felix.” Ingrid praised.

The trueblade smiled again, but the pleasantries were over. “Right, now take it off, you’re going to let your body fully heal before you put it back on, understood?” He ordered, and Ingrid nodded, trading the binder for a loose tunic. “Now then, come with me, the four of us are going to have dinner together.” The two walked side by side as a leisurely pace down the dorm halls, Ingrid’s hand brushed occasionally against Felix’s until he out and held their hand himself. “So, now that this is out, should I be saying, ‘Ingrid is a fine knight, he’s my best friend?’ Or something else?” Felix asked in his usual blunt manner.

Ingrid couldn’t help but chuckle earnestly, though the last part seemed to have struck a high note. “Could you say that last bit again?”

Felix raised an eyebrow. “Um, ‘he’s my best friend?’” He reiterated, and Ingrid smiled bright. The knight was still trying to figure things out, so Ingrid appreciated the earnest attempt from Felix to find what sounded right.

“Yes, use that for now please.” He agreed, and Ingrid squeezed Felix’s hand a little tighter.

Felix still wasn’t smiling, but Ingrid could tell he was happy. Ingrid was as well, it was just nice to know that even under all the lashing out and bravado, his friend still had a big heart.


	3. Day 3: New Outfit + Friends, Linhardt & Caspar

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Caspar has something special that Linhardt has always wanted.

“Yooooo! Lin! Come on, come with me!”

Linhardt suddenly found themselves roughly woken up from a pleasing nap under the academy’s shadiest oak tree by an increasingly excited Caspar. They groaned and tried to roll over, but the war master was having none of it. “This. Is. Important. Lin!” He declared, and straight up hoisted the snoozy mage over his shoulder. “Trust me, kay?!”

They couldn’t really fight it since Caspar had them limp over his shoulders, so Linhardt simply used the opportunity to try and doze off once again as Caspar took them wherever he was intended. The war master’s back was a surprisingly gentle and comfortable spot for a nap, and Linhardt found themselves snoring away rather quickly. Caspar for this part chuckled, and decided to walk a little slower in order to give his friend more time to nap off. 

“Ok buddy! Up and at ‘em!” Caspar declared once they arrived in his dorm. He then dropped Linhardt from above onto the bed. The mage immediately shot awak and scrambled lay flat like a cat, including hissing and protesting vociferously. “Aw cheer up, trust me, this is so going to be worth it!” Caspar asserted, yet Linhardt remained pouty with arms folded.

“Ten seconds.” They offered, and Caspar went straight to work.

“Ok so remember when the quartermaster said-”

“Nine.”

“-that he couldn’t authorize the item you wanted-”

“Eight.”

“-and we both complained about it for hours-”

“Seven.”

“-because that blockhead refused to understand-

“Six.”

“-the nuances of presentation and identity-

“Five, Caspar please just get the point.”

The war master held his hands up in surrender. “Ok, ok, just- close your eyes!” And Linhardt did so. There was a bit of ruffling around, including what sounded like a pair of chimes ringing, and then Linhardt heard Caspar call out to look. “Ta-dah!” He flourished, holding out his gift in front. Linhardt nearly gasped at the presented outfit. It had leaf green velvet sheets, platinum adornments, lion’s mane fur trimming. They were gremory robes, Linhardt concluded, no doubt about it.

“Cas… for me?” They warmly asked. Caspar nodded, and walked forward so Linhardt could take the garment from him.

“Now um, I can’t take all the credit, this was certainly a group effort.” Caspar began to explain. He walked over to the bed and sat down next to Linhardt. “Marianne used her family connections to source the materials, Bernadetta pet it together, and Mercedes enchanted them, for starters.” He elaborated.

Linhardt cupped and rubbed Caspar’s cheek, swearing they could hear him purr. “And just what did you contribute, champ?”

“Oh! I beat the snot out of that quartermaster, how’s that?”

The both laughed, and Capsar slapped his thigh while Linhardt patted his back. “Well, haha… why don’t I try this on!” The newly crowned gremory suggested. Caspar turned away in respect, and Linhardt went behind a curtain to slide into the silky smooth robes. They fit remarkably well, Linhardt thought, as the velvet clung well to their torso and hips before splaying out around the knees. The fur collar was genuine sheared from beasts, and they could feel the enchantments of the dress begin to well within their body. Linhardt stepped back out and did a little twirl, they felt powerful, extremely so, and they smiled and took a curtsey as Caspar cheered them on.

“Lin you look amazing! Very you! Yeehaw!” The war master hollered, and Linhardt couldn’t help but blush somewhat as Caspar ran up and gave them a big hug.

“I’m glad we can both say that now.” Linhardt acknowledged, ruffling Caspar’s hair in the process.

Caspar began to squirm heavily in excitement, proclaiming, “Yeah! And, I just… you’re amazing Lin!” And in the heat of passion he kissed their cheek.

Linhardt gasped an “oh,” as the two slowed down and loosened up slightly. “Is this…?”

“I just really wanted to repay you for everything you’ve done. You were the first to understand me, to help me become the man I am today… You are breathtaking, Linhardt.” Caspar quietly confessed.

Linhardt for their part listened carefully, and answered with their own kiss on Caspar’s forehead. “You’re breathtaking, Caspar.” They added.

The war master chuckled lightly as the rush wore down, before tapering off into a gentle sigh. “Want to return to your napping now, Lin?”

“Mmmm… no.” They stated. “But I could go for a cuddle or two.”


	4. Day 4: Self Love + Comfortable, Marianne & Hilda

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hilda teaches Marianne how to truly appreciate herself.

When Marianne finally awoke, it was from the soft tickle of sunrise peeking through the blinds of her room’s window. They danced across her sleeping face like little will-o'-the-wisps, gently coaxing Mariqanne up until she finally picked up her head from its soft down pillow.

“Wha?… The time?” Marianne croaked towards the sunlight window. She always woke up well before the sun came out to the tune of an ever present ringing, wind up clock. But there was no alarm, and the room was well lit. It was then that it finally dawned upon Marianne that this was not her room at all, it wasn’t even her house. “Right… I’m visiting…” She spoke to herself, and began to hear the doorknob jiggling right after.

“Gooood morning sweet Marianne!” Hilda bellowed as she entered. “Awww you look like you actually got a good sleep for once, Mari. You’re smiling!” Hilda gushed. Marianne felt her face, she was definitely smiling, and she found herself unable to hold in, and began to chuckle at her friend’s sunny greeting. Hilda then startled Marianne somewhat by hopping onto the bed, and holding out her hands just centimeters away from the healer’s face.

“Oh… oh go ahead.” Marianne blushed, and Hilda got right to work rubbing her cheeks, massaging them gently but efficiently.

She also worked on Marianne’s chin and forehead, tenderizing her still rather pale skin. “Trust me Mari, this really helps. Why do you think I look so bright and cheery all the time?” She suggested.

Once through, Hilda stepped back to allow Marianne to get out of bed, though she tugged back on the healer’s hand as she started to make way to the cabinets. “No, no, no.” Hilda asserted, and pulled Marianne back enough for her to come to a seat on the edge of the bed with her. “You said you wanted me to help you learn to relax and appreciate yourself, so today you get to just laze around in your jammies!”

Marianne nervously smiled back. “But… you’re in your day clothes, Hilda.” She observed.

“Well, I had to go down to the kitchen to get your breakfast, come here!”

Hilda led Marianne to a private sitting room in the Goneril manor where a plated dish set below a shining, silver dome anxiously awaited her. “I hope you’re hungry, Marianne, because I made sure to have the chefs whip up your favourite meal.” Hilda asserted. Marianne could faintly smell something freshly baked and sweet wafting from the plate, and she instinctively held a hand over her perpetually frail looking abdomen as it began to growl. “Now, ta-da!” Hilda took off the cover, and Marianne gasped at the small mountain of sweet buns that were hidden beneath it. She thought there was probably around fifteen, and they smelled absolutely mouthwatering as she leaned forward to take a few sniffs. “I wasn’t sure if you preferred the ones with fruit filling or the ones with sweet red beans… so I got you both!” Hilda explained, and Marianne could feel warmth filling up her face even harder

“Hilda, I-I don’t know if I can eat this many.” The healer advised.

“Eat as much as you can, that’s your lesson here.” Hilda answered.

In the end Marianne got a little more than halfway through before collapsing onto the back of her chair with a heavy sigh. She couldn’t even remember her preference herself; they were both so good, and she wanted to continue again so badly.

“I wish I could enjoy this every day.” Marianne pleaded. 

Hilda came over to Marianne’s side and put a supportive hand on her shoulder. “You can, Mari. Your stupid adoptive father isn’t here, he can’t control your life while you’re with me.” She suggested. Marianne felt another warmth come to her cheeks, and she looked downwards bashfully, only able to mutter back a quiet, “Thank you.”

“I don’t want to say ‘happiness is a choice’ or anything, Mari, but just know I’ll help you do whatever you need or want to feel better about yourself!” Hilda further argued.

“Hilda…” Marianne muttered as she continued to stare past her now swollen stomach. “...Why do you care so much about me? I just… what do you get out of it?” She sincerely asked. Rather than answer right away, Hilda scooped Marianne up in her strong arms and carried her over to a nearby couch. There she led Marianne to lie on the soft cushions, the healer’s head resting upon her own lap.

“Well, you know… as a noble of House Goneril, everybody seems to expect the world out of me, and doubly so considering my brother’s achievements.” Hilda began. She took a short pause to ask if it was ok to rub Marianne’s tummy, to which she readily agreed. Hilda frowned at how frail her friend still felt under her clothes, but that was just another reason she had to make sure Marianne ate well on her visit. “But with you, I can help you lots and lots, and yet you never grow to expect any of it. I feel like when I’m around you I can afford to maybe mess something up, I can fail, and you won’t judge me for it.” Hilda further clarified.

Marianne raised her head slightly up as Hilda concluded. She never considered that her lover could be hurting inside like her, yet here it was turning out that they were unintentionally giving each other exactly the same thing. Acceptance, and safety.

“Hilda…” Marianne hooked her arm around the pink girl's neck, pulling her higher.

“Mmm? Yes Mari-” Hilda was cut short by a sudden, loving kiss upon her lips.

It didn’t last too long, but both girls were weeping only as Marianne laid back in Hilda’s lap.

“Was this part of your lesson plan?” Marianne choked and teased.

Hilda sniffed and wiped away a pair of tears, “It was originally an advanced lesson, planned for later.” She joked back.

Marianne felt a sudden urge wash over, and her hands moved to the back of her head. There they began to slowly unravel the thick forest of weaves that held her crown braid together, though she was in a tricky position to do so. Without even needing to be asked, Hilda took over unraveling Marianne’s hair, and when she was finally free of it all Hilda couldn’t help but gasp.

“Mari! Just how long is your hair?” She asked in total amazement. The locks spilled out and seemed to go on forever, though it was hard to tell the true length with Marianne lying down.

“Um, to my knees last I checked?” The healer tossed out. She’d learned how to braid since it helped to mask how long her hair truly was. If it looked short then Marianne could get away with growing her hair out. But here with Hilda, Marianne felt safe enough to let everything loose, and it was a very liberating mood.

“It must take hours to wash and comb that, would you like some help, my sweet Mari?” Hilda asked.

Marianne smiled back as she ran her fingers through her wavy hair for what felt like the first time in a year. “Perhaps… but… do you think I’d look good with short hair?”

“Good? Mari you’d be the cutest little thing ever!”

This time it was Hilda who lifted Marianne up for a kiss. Everything just felt perfect in that moment, like she was finally able to do things simply because she wanted to.

No longer because she was forced to.


	5. Day 5: Solidarity + Mentorship, Dorothea & Manuela

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Manuela is there to help a young rose bloom, except when she's not.

Manulea could remember very clearly how confused her young protégé Dorothea looked when she was brought the first marriage proposal the singer had received. It was little over a year after Manulea had run upon the young orphan girl singing in a busy street for change in coin, and she could hardly believe that such a strong and proud voice could come from someone so small and frail. She remembered the look of wonder on Dorothea’s face when she had insisted, ‘there’s a star in you, and I want to help it shine,’ and offered to bring the disheveled stray into the Opera. What Dorothea didn’t know, or at least didn’t realize, is that Manuela wasn’t teaching a true protégé, she was training a replacement. This made it all the more awkward when Dorothea had revealed to her the details of the singer’s first suitor.

“The money would help, right?” Dorothea sheepishly asked. “And he said it’s to his son, who’s my age.”

Manuela however could see right through the supposedly generous offer. “These kinds of people don’t care about you at all.” She warned.

“Why then?” Dorothea mused.

“Because to them you’re just a trophy wife, someone to parade around as some sort of accomplishment, completely disregarding what you’ve worked so hard for.” The diva elaborated. “And Opera mates always look out for one another.”

Dorothea nodded and thanked Manuela for her advice, the two of them starting their daily practice session right after. A couple more frustrating proposals later, and Dorothea then began to vent out new frustrations to Manuela.

“All they see me is a pretty and popular woman, just a hunk of meat.” The singer griped over tea. Manuela reached over and patted the young girl’s shoulder, but Dorothea was far from done. “I wish they would just stop, it's just making me confused and irritated.” The young girl added. Manuela took a moment to refill both of their tea cups, giving her a glance at Dorothea nervously rubbing hands together before picking up the cup. The diva could tell that Dorothea was either hiding something, or trying to work up the courage to tell her something, but she wasn’t going to press either. “What about you? Do you have to deal with these same kinds of challenges?” Dorothea asked.

Manuela chuckled softly to herself, revealing that her last unsolicited approach was well past ten years ago. “I’m afraid my reputation on that front has been thoroughly tarnished.” She teased, and both giggled along. That phrase seemed to spark something in Dorothea however, and Manuela couldn’t help but notice the girl glancing off towards the wardrobe.

“Manuela… do you think I could play the lead male role in the next production?”  
The diva nearly spat her tea out in surprise. “Dorothea! Well… you’ve seen a few performers cross boundaries like that, yes, but if you don’t mind me asking, why?”

Dorothea smiled half proudly, half anxiously. “Because… I want to establish my own reputation to the viewing masses.”

Manuela grinned back, and together they got to work right away.

Mittelfrank’s next production of _Weg der Ausstrahlung_ was a record breaking hit, with Dorothea’s performance in the lead the talk of many patrons and critics. His convention breaking achievement was also settled within the singer’s mind as not a single noble or person of means stayed behind to offer any ‘generous engagements,’ which only made the stage high last even longer. Maneula was pleased to see Dorothea so happy in his new roles, which quickly transitioned into the young woman presenting more traditionally masculine off the stage as well. After their third year together, with Dorothea being branded the ‘Mythical Melodist,’ Manuela decided there was nothing left for her to teach Dorothea, and so she announced her departure from the company.

“You’re leaving? But why?” Dorothea had immediately questioned her.

Manuela cupped the melodist’s cheek and gave him a chaste kiss on the forehead. “I just feel like it’s time to move on with my life, dear.” Was her answer.

The two would keep up in letters as Manuela settled into her new role as teacher and doctor at Garreg Mach, but slowly the responses from Dorothea thinned out until for the last two years, he was completely silent. Manuela felt bad for leaving Dorothea behind, and she missed him dearly, but she had her own goals to get out of life, and they weren’t going to be happening while she was still stuck as the ‘Divine Songstress’. But then near the end of Lone Moon, while Manuela was grading and evaluating applicants and entrance exams, a familiar name graced the top of one such submission. Dorothea Arnault.

The reunion was pleasant, but right away Manuela could tell something was amiss, particularly because Dorothea had reintroduced himself joined at the hip of what appeared to be a potential suitor. He was also back to dressing completely feminine and was apparently tarnishing his own legacy.

“I trained Dorothea, by the way.” Manuela had explained to the young noble boy. “Mittelfrank’s own Mythical Melodist!”

Dorothea had cleared his throat and spoke to correct her. “Actually, it’s ‘Mystical Songstress,’ Manuela.”

From then on, there was always an unspoken tension in their conversations. Everything seemed fine as now both were bonding over shared experiences of bad dates, and spoiled chances. But through all of it the former diva begged to ask her former protégé.

_“Dorothea, why do you look and sound so miserable? Why did you stop being yourself?”_

Months went on until Manuela swallowed her anxiety and tried to breach the topic. It was the day before the ball, and previously Dorothea had asked for her help in securing an adequate looking wear for the dance. Clearly he had meant some frilly looking ballgown to do with his ‘new’ performance, but in a heat of passion Manuela had brought Dorothea something completely different.

“Is this a joke, Manuela? Because I’m not laughing.” Dorothea dryly stated. Manuela had ended up getting a completely prince-like attire. The epaulettes, aiguillette and sash made it look like something worn for a coronation, all Manuela figured it was missing were some medals. “I don’t want to wear this.” Dorothea continued to fight, but Manuela wasn’t going to give up.

“Yes you do.”

“Oh, so you think you know me?” The singer accused.

“I know you well enough to recognize how much happier and proud you were before this!” Manuela asserted.

Dorothea suddenly stood up, his jostling of the table tipping over a teacup and causing it to smash to the ground. “Maybe that was for a different reason.” He switched up.

Manuela paused for a moment, she could tell Dorothea was angry at her, but now it almost sounded like he was about to cry? “...Dorothea, why do you look and sound so miserable? Why did you stop being yourself?” She sincerely asked.

“Because…” Dorothea had to stop to sniffle. “Because I was alone again.” And he broke into open tears. Manuela rushed over and held Dorothea up as he wailed into her shoulder. She rubbed his back and just waited for anything else he needed to get off his chest. “Manuela… I know you always thought of me as a student, or a disciple. But to me… I didn’t really care about the Opera, or at least I didn’t care as much as I did just wanting to be with you.”

Manuela could feel her own heart breaking in shame and realization. “Dorothea… you mean?”

“I never thought of you as my mentor... To me you were my mother, and you left me.”

The former diva felt herself on the verge of tears now, though she held back as best she could for Dorothea’s sake. “No… I… I didn’t…” She began to sputter, but just one look on the younger woman’s face said it all. “I’m so sorry, Dorothea, so, so sorry.”

They embraced again, and this time both women shed tears.

Dorothea did indeed wear the suit Maneula had provided, making it just in time for the ball to start. They shared a few dances, but rather quickly Manuela retreated off to the side. She still kept a close eye on Dorothea though, watching him go from partner to partner until eventually landing with Edelgard. Manuela could read from their lips that they were complimenting each other’s dress, and just barely it looked like they might have shared a kiss.

“See him over there?” Manuela would point out to her next dance partner. “That’s my wonderful, talented, lovely daughter, Dorothea.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The opera name means "Path of Radiance" in German. 
> 
> Yes, Dorothea was playing Ike.


	6. Day 6: Found Family + Pride, Bernadetta & the Black Eagles

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bernie has an amazing family, she just had to realize who her real family is.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Same characters as previous fics!)

Bernadetta was so relieved that things were finally returning to normal. Well, as normal as they could be, given the war that was spanning nearly the entire continent. Still, after five years the Black Eagles’ teacher was back, Edelgard was smiling again, Bernadetta heard jokes being told in the dining hall, and even the winter sun seemed to shine a little brighter. She spent that morning shooting arrows at the range, one steel bolt after another, making sure to keep up efforts with both hands. Bernadetta had despaired a little recently when it started to feel like the bowstring was resisting her more, as she didn’t want her new medication to make her a liability in battle. Yet Edelgard assured Bernadetta that her comfort mattered more than her prowess, and in the end it all just compelled the violet archer to train harder.

Eventually she saw Dorothea walk into the range and take a seat on one of the benches near the equipment racks. Bernadetta felt that the singer must be here to watch her perform, since she had never seen Dorothea show any interest in using a bow. She decided to stick to her quarrels, so if Dorothea wanted to watch, Bernadetta would just put on the best show for him. Still Dorothea was there even half an hour, Bernadetta could see him out of the corner of her eye. She then loosened one particularly rough bolt, and had to stop for a moment to rub her aching shoulders.

“Would you like a little massage, Bern?” Dorothea innocently asked, surprising Bernadetta by suddenly appearing next to her in what felt like a single moment.

Bernadetta flinched a bit, but she knew Dorothea wasn’t trying to surprise her, she just wasn’t paying attention to the sound of his feet. “Oh… sure, that sounds nice, thank you Doro.” She agreed. The violet haired archer took up a set opposite Dorothea, seemingly shocking the woman somewhat as she took her outermost shirt off.

“Wow, Bern, I knew being an archer was hard work… but wow!” The singer praised. Bernadetta blushed as Dorothea slowly reached forward and poked a shoulder muscle exposed by the archer’s tank top, leading to a short pause and then happy giggles between the two women.

Bernadetta then turned around in her chair, letting Dorothea get to work on her tired shoulders. “Could be better.” She suggested, then sighing, “I think I’ve actually lost a bit of muscle recently.”

“Nonsense, Bern, we’ve all seen how hard you’ve been working lately, and we’re all very proud of you.” Dorothea insisted. “Seriously, you could give Petra or Ingrid a run for their money, and we’re all here to help each other and keep each other safe. We’re stronger together, have faith in us, and have faith in yourself.”

Bernadetta smiled and thanked Dorothea for both the words of encouragement and the soothing massage. “You’re always so kind to me, Doro. You’re a true friend, someone I…” The archer let the last word trail off, as she didn’t think she was ready for that kind of talk with Dorothea.

“Thank you, Bern.” The singer replied, and reached over to peck Bernadetta’s cheek. “But now… I have to ask, what level of surprise are you comfortable with?” He asked.

“Um… I’ll take whatever you’ve got, but what’s the occasion?”

“You mean you don’t remember? Well, come with me then.”

Dorothea led Bernadetta blindfolded around the academy grounds, no doubt drawing many strange looks from meandering soldiers. If Bernadetta had to guess, it felt like Dorothea was taking her towards the dining hall, which ended up being accurate after the cloth was pulled from her eyes.

“Happy Birthday!” The assembled crowd of the Black Eagle Strike Force cheered in unison. With all the emotion from Byleth’s return coupled with the impending march on Myrddin, Bernadetta had completely forgotten about her birthday this month, and she was now being swarmed in a massive group hug by more than a dozen people. It honestly brought a tear to her eye, as Bernadetta has never really celebrated birthdays before coming to Garreg Mach. She never had friends at home, and her father was never going to celebrate anything about his ‘failure of a son’. But now she had friends who supported her unconditionally, a girlfriend who loved her, and comrades who respected her. All that she really felt that was missing was family, but…

“This is a most joyous birthday, is it not?” Petra greeted her, the two women taking a brief moment to share a kiss. “For you, my love.” The princess handed her a tied bundle of animal furs, no doubt hunted, skinned and fleshed by Petra herself.

“Thank you so much, these will make an excellent winter coat!” Bernadetta beamed, and she took the moment to kiss a somewhat flustered Petra once again. “I love you, this is perfect, thank you.”

And there were other prized gifts to go alone with the furs. A set of professional oil paints from Edelgard, more precious fabrics from Marianne, and a box of chocolates from Lysithea to name a few.

“Three cheers for the Black Eagles’ own Bernadetta!” Freya suddenly called out, and Bernadetta had to hide out of partial embarrassment and modesty as the room erupted in calls of, “Hip-hip hooray!” It left Bernadetta simultaneously giddy, but also wanting more, and Petra could sense a growing apprehension in her as she sighed briefly.

“Something is being on your mind?” The princess cheerfully asked, and gripped the archer’s hand.

Bernadetta turned to her side and shared a quick kiss with her beloved. “It’s nothing, I just wish my family could be like this.” She mused.

But Petra simply responded with a rather confused look. “Bernie, I do not think you understand.” She added. Now it was the violet archer’s turn to grow a puzzled front, asking Petra to explain what she was insinuating. “In Brigid, families are by choice, not blood. You already have a family, Bernie, they are called the Black Eagles.”

Hearing Petra say that finally seemed to land some sense in Bernadetta’s mind, how she’d been feeling, what she’d wanted to say. She took a moment to scan across the room, they were all broken up into little groups enjoying cake and other snacks, trios of Lysithea, Caspar and Linhardt sharing jokes, Freya, Hubert and Edelgard arguing reforms, and Dorothea, Marianne and Ingrid trading love stories. It really did look and feel like a family, and that just made Bernadetta’s earlier wish resurface in her mind.

“Mind if I go ask Dorothea something quickly?” Bernadetta asked, and Petra nodded in agreement. She still brought Petra with her, leading the princess over to the Mythical Melodist, and pulling him aside for a quick moment.

“What’s up, Bern?” Dorothea asked, keeping up a smile to soothe any tensions.

Bernadetta took a moment to think, tapping her fingers together at a steady beat. “Well, you see, it’s come to my attention… the Black Eagles are all a big family, right?” She opened, and Dorothea nodded in agreement. “My… birth family means nothing to me… I’ve already given up my claim to Varley lands, and lately I was going through some old linguistic books… Doro, did you know that ‘Arnault’ comes from the old Adrestian word for ‘Eagle’?”

Dorothea raised his eyebrows in amazement. “Wow, guess I’m two types of eagle now, huh?” She said, and ruffled Bernadetta’s hair. “But I’m guessing you didn’t pull me aside just for that.”

“You’re right, I was wondering… if maybe… I could borrow… your surname as my own?” Bernadetta finished the last part as quickly as she could, and then shut her eyes as if awaiting an inevitable argument. But no harsh words or movements came. Instead, she felt only a soft kiss upon her anxious forehead, and a gentle rub of a soft cheek.

“I’d be delighted… little sister Bernadetta.”

The violet archer opened her eyes and was greeted by a warm hug from the singer, followed by Petra, and soon after everyone else in the room.

Bernadetta Arnault reckoned that she had the most amazing family in the world.


	7. Day 7: Free Day, Edelgard and Byleth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's never too late.

It was just after sundown when Edelgard and Byleth retreated to their usual porch swing in Brigid’s usual warm summer nights. It was always pleasing to just sit back with hands clasped, listening to the orchestra of Brigid wildlife singing through the woods, chirping crickets, croaking frogs and hooting owls. The seat gently swung back and forth as Edelgard rested her head upon Byleth’s shoulder, the individual swirls of graying hair mixing together with splotches of fading cornflower blue, and pale hazelnut brown. There were just a few hours left for the day of Edelgard’s fifty-seventh birthday, but all the cake had been eaten, gifts received, and the many children and grandkids had all gone to sleep. It was just two old lovers left, each having a rare moment to relax, and reflect on life’s questions.

“Damien’s growing really fast, By, he might even end up taller than Jer.” Edelgard mused.

“Could also be that you’re getting shorter, El.” Byleth chuckled back.

The former Emperor nudged her love with a shoulder. “Please don’t remind me of that, it’s already hard enough knowing a twelve year old is taller than me.” She teased in return.

Byleth turned to better wrap their wife up, and kiss the crown of her head. “Just makes you fit into my arms better, dear.”

Edelgard scooted into Byleth’s lap, and the two held each other closely. Edelgard nestled her ear over her wife’s heart to hear it beat, while Byleth used the time to give their love’s tired back muscles a rub. The days of war and imperium just seemed like bad memories at this point. They had full, loving lives now where they could just be themselves in peace, spend time with friends and family whenever desired and do whatever they wanted. That sort of time for reflection and resolution was always treasured by both, as it wasn’t as if their lives got less busy in their new home. But Edelgard was in a particularly strong thinking mood tonight, and without even really meaning to, she asked a rather belated question to her beloved wife.

“By, why do you think I had everyone address me as ‘Emperor’ back then?”

Byleth found themselves strangely captivated by the question, even though they didn’t really have an answer. “I… never thought about it even a bit. Sorry, it’s just, you know how I think and feel about stuff like gender and expression, I don’t.” They made sure to chuckle at the end to signify the playful, self-deprecating nature of the reply.

“Oh, I know, I was just curious.” Edelgard clarified, then adding, “To be honest, I never gave it much thought as well. My reasoning was that ‘Emperor’ sounded more authoritative, and that’s why I was more comfortable with it, but now…”

Edelgard seemed to trail off, so Byleth picked up. “Now what? My light?”

She took a while to think, but Edelgard eventually elaborated, “Remember when I came back from that summit to Almyra that Jer asked for help with?”

Byleth nodded. “How could I forget? You had that old lady mustache that Rosalind immediately freaked out over?” They recalled.

Both laughed at the old memory, but for Edelgard there was now a bit of a sting to it. “Yes, and I shaved it off right away, but I still remember what you said to defend me in front of the kids.”

_“Well, I think she looks rather sexy with it!”_ Byleth re-enacted in a deliberately over-performative tone.

“Right in front of them!” Edelgard griped, and jokingly punished her wife in the arm. Byleth simply shrugged and stated that it was never a secret that they found her attractive. Edelgard took a long sigh once the laughs were over, returning to her previous spot over Byleth’s heart. “Truth be told though… I kind of liked the look as well. I just didn’t have it in me to say it out loud until now.” She finally admitted.

Byleth didn’t quite know what thoughts might be going through their wife’s head, but she knew the perfect words to say for the occasion. “If you ever want to talk about how you’re feeling, know I’ll always love and support you.” They then hastily added, “It’s never too late to discover new things about yourself.”

Edelgard looked up and shared a long kiss with Byleth, not even noticing the beginnings of tear drops starting to slide down her wrinkled face. “Thank you… I love you too, By, and honestly… I have no idea where these thoughts will lead me, but knowing you’ll be there helps a lot.”

The two stopped to kiss each other again, though Byleth was quickly distracted by a curious look. “Hmm? Oh! El look!” Byleth suddenly pointed out, leading Edelgard’s gaze into the sparkly night sky.

Before them a thin streak blazed through the air, leaving both in a state of awe. “A shooting star!” Edelgard realized with a smile.

“What are you going to wish for?” Byleth asked with intent.

Edelgard took a moment to think, but only briefly. “I wish that our lives shall always be filled with rewarding adventures like these. How about you, By?”

“Couldn’t have said it better myself, El.”


End file.
